See You Again
by DesDiamondS
Summary: Her fate was never in his hands.  HP/PP


Summary: Her fate lies in his hands.

Notes: This story was written for inverarity68 over livejournal's pphpficexchange loosely based on her prompt, Pansy chose the wrong side, and after the war, an angry, vengeful Harry holds her fate in his hands. As dark as you want to make it; any rating.". This was very challenging to write as it was my first time writing Harry/Pansy but it definitely was a learning experience. Thanks to my two betas on this floorcoaster and somandalicious. This story was nominated for a pphpficexchange award in the category 'Best Angst'.

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He dreamed and she was there again. He couldn't see her, he couldn't hear her, but she was there, standing in his doorway, watching him as he fought himself, paralyzing him with her stare. The eyes were just as he remembered them, dark and smooth, always intense. It drove him to insanity; he never knew if he should reach out or run away in these illusions. Whether they were arguing or kissing, his doubts remained the same. He woke up with a start, thunder roaring outside of his window illuminating the streets outside and alerting him to the scene down below.

Prisoner 6-21-82 arrived at her temporary holding facility during a torrential rainstorm in the middle of a November night. She was quickly secured in her cell by the customary hexes and taken through all the regular procedures just as with any other prisoner; but she was absolutely nothing like the others.

This was a peculiar case, her mere presence had provoked an uproar the likes of which none of them had experienced before. She was the youngest of those left, right out of their school days. She reminded them of simpler times that were easier forgotten. She begged, pleaded, and screamed bloody murder. They were all uneasy; it was complicated when the enemy had once sat in the same great hall and classrooms for years. Her previous relationship with Harry Potter didn't help matters.

Harry was never much for words, he was always more introspective than the others, a thinker, quiet, reflective. Now he was no different, standing quietly as the young woman behind the invisible barrier cried and moaned, his recent dreams on his mind. The rest of the Order stood in the corridor near the door, hoping to hear something, if anything from inside. Hermione and Ron remained on the ground floor of Grimmauld Place keeping watch in case anyone else were to arrive, but were more than alarmed by the recent events. Pansy had demanded to see Harry, and Remus Lupin was willing to concede, in spite of his protests.

They reached this conclusion after hours of bickering, feuding over what the right course of action was, what could or couldn't be done. They all had opinions and were all equally passionate. This was after all, personal.

Nymphadora Tonks had been the one to return them to some semblance of order, as Harry was too busy with Remus in their own heated debate. Remus knew Harry's secrets, his reservations, and yet he insisted things be this way.

Pansy Parkinson looked absolutely pathetic, dressed in old, tattered robes, her long black hair unkempt and hanging around her face, hiding everything from his gaze except her eyes, black pools of oblivion. She looked sickly pale and incredibly thin.

Facing her this way felt like being hit with a Quaffle in the gut, a sudden pain that sent his stomach into knots. He had hoped that time and distance would have made him feel differently, but that was not the case. Memories were always more powerful than he gave them credit for. He could recall every detail about her, and he knew this was not his Pansy. How different she was from the one who had scoffed at him and then had run away. He seemed to stand there for hours, absolutely silent and lost in dark thoughts, memories he had hoped to forget.

"Harry?" Pansy finally gained his attention minutes later, a crazed desperation in her tone, her voice cracking as she yelped. He finally met her gaze, a dark penetrating look that caused her to fall silent and pull away from him, sinking into the magic restraints keeping her in place as though they would shield her. He felt angry that she stood there, disappointed by that stupid look in her eyes, pleading. How she could even pronounce his name on those traitorous lips was inconceivable, incomprehensible after so much.

He clenched his fists and resisted the urge to pull his wand; it wasn't fair how she affected him. How she could change his moods so suddenly. He took two long breaths and finally shook his head. There was so much running through his mind, literally thousands of things that suddenly felt inconsequential now that he actually had the opportunity to say them to her. Anger, confusion, fear; even a small convoluted sense of relief that she was still alive. He was disappointed that words were failing him and said the first thing that occurred to him, what seemed to be lying most prominently on his mind,

"This isn't how I imagined a reunion." His voice felt alien to him as he watched her close her eyes and begin to weep in earnest, fat tears rolling down her dirty cheeks. He had once made promises to her about this place, his only home—strange how things worked out differently. She thrashed against the restraints yet again. He found it felt oddly comforting.

"I told them the truth," she spoke between sobs.

"I find that hard to believe,"

"If someone would just listen," she moaned.

"I'm not here to listen to your stories."

"Then why _are_ you here?"

Harry had asked this same question when Lupin insisted on this. What was the point if they planned on the same outcome either way? He answered truthfully,

"I don't know."

"Then this is useless." Pansy huffed and Harry bit his tongue, it was typical Pansy, inside a situation much bigger than herself and still with enough gall for her snotty attitude to shine through. She stopped fighting the restraints.

"You're lucky you even made it here alive, considering the choices you've made."

"It always comes back to that with you, doesn't it? _Choices_." She spat the last word as if it were something awful, distasteful. It was reminiscent of a very similar argument from a few years back.

Harry stopped himself, her attempt to throw him off the subject, make him think about the past, angered him.

"Sometimes there aren't any choices."

"Is that how you justify going to the Death Eaters? Those murderers?"

"Is that what they're telling you now? I ran off with the first moron in a mask?"

"You were supposed to disappear!" Harry's reprimand made her jump. He grimaced and took another deep breath. It wasn't working. Her cavalier attitude was more than he could bear after such a long night. In fact, it was probably midmorning by now. His eyes were beginning to burn. "You said you were leaving the country."

Pansy's voice was lower now, "It was harder than I thought." Her gaze was even now, sad, as if he'd finally managed to break through the haughty exterior and touch her. He had almost forgotten she was bound, why they were ultimately here. She smiled sadly at him, the first of her smiles he'd seen in a long time. It wasn't how he remembered it.

Harry swallowed, feeling bile building up at the back of his throat; he didn't want to do this, not now, not ever. Then he remembered the small bundle lying in a corner under the debris of an upstairs nursery. Is that what he had looked like when Dumbledore retrieved him?

"They had a son."

She dropped her head, "I know."

It was like a circle, everything repeating itself no matter what he did. He wondered momentarily what this orphan would grow up to be. Would he become the Dark Lord of future generations? More powerful than the last? Would he have himself to thank for it?

"I didn't kill the Muggles."

Harry clenched his jaw, it was the answer he would have hoped for, but how could he know it was the truth and not just her attempts to say what he wanted to hear?

"How can I believe you Pansy?"

Her lips quivered, "Have you ever?"

Harry suddenly understood his dream. It all came back to his questions, his doubts: reach out or run away? She was here now, in front of him, watching him.

There was a knock on the door and Hermione stood in the doorway, silent. He knew what it meant; this was the crossroads.

"Harry?" Pansy called to him, and this time it didn't anger him. He stored it in his mind, with all the other painful memories he refused to let go of. He did not meet Pansy's gaze and nodded in Hermione's direction. He would have liked to have said something, but it seemed that his words would only bring a false hope, for the both of them. Instead he left without another word, his heart heavy with the knowledge he would never see her again.


End file.
